


Prologue: Willow Tree March

by balimaria



Series: The L'manburg Chronicles [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Backstory, Basically just a ton of buildup for the rest of the DSMP, Canon Trans Character, Dream Smp, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), F/M, FUCK TECHNO THEY ARE FAMILY, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Foreshadowing, Gen, Honestly an incredible tag, How L'manburg started, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrids, I refuse to submit to canon, Jschlatt Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), POV TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), POV Wilbur Soot, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Platonic Soulmates Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Pre-War, Prologue, Protective Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), READ THIS ONE FIRST SMILE, SBI FD FANS COME HITHER, Sacrifice, Sally is a shapeshifter btw, The Disc War, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship, Toby Smith | Tubbo Angst, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Trans Floris | Fundy, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, Worldbuilding, Yes I made SMP Earth canon cries sobs runs away, a lot of it, also a lot of that, etcetera etcetera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balimaria/pseuds/balimaria
Summary: It starts like this:Wilbur meets the most beautiful fish he’s ever seen.Well, sort of.“It’s time for you three to write your story,” Phil says. “And my, what a story it will be.”The Disk War rewritten (more info in notes!) and prologue of the L'manburg Chronicles.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot/Sally the Salmon
Series: The L'manburg Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932613
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	1. Children of War

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, I intended to start posting this work only _after_ it was finished. I'm over 10k words in and have immediately gotten impatient. So... here we are! Yes, this is indeed the surprise I was talking about, and yes, I will continue remnants after this one is finished. I really believe this whole thing is very important worldbuilding/buildup to my rewrite of DSMP, and it also includes lots of wholesomeness and lots of family dynamics, so read or die :]
> 
> To new readers: yes, I am rewriting all of DSMP. I am very dedicated to this project and would love to have you along! So drop a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!

The horizon glows with dawn light, promising a full and sunny day. Old redwoods creak and sway a familiar melody in the light breeze, accompanied by the gentle coos of mourning doves. Pinescent rides along the draft, filling a small cottage with the dream of adventure. The future watches, silent and pleading.

“Well, this is it! Do you three have everything you need?”

Phil smiles over the table, trying to make the atmosphere less tense. Nobody seems reassured. Then again, Techno looming over his shoulder doesn’t quite help.

Wilbur huffs, finally breaking the quiet. “I have everything I need, at least. What about you boys?”

Tubbo triple-checks his bags, then gives Wilbur a thumbs up. Tommy only crosses his arms, foot tapping against the floorboards.

Wilbur raises an eyebrow.

“Tommy?”

Tommy starts, hurriedly meeting Wilbur’s gaze. “What do you want?”

“I just asked if you had everything packed.”

Tommy scowls. “Of course I do, bitch. Why the hell wouldn’t I?” he spits.

The silence rolls back in like a squall against the seashore.

“Tommy...” Tubbo starts. “It’s okay to be nervous. You know that, right?”

“I’m not nervous,” comes the immediate response.

Phil sighs, stepping out from Techno’s ginormous shadow to put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. He seems to sink beneath the weight. Tubbo and Wilbur exchange a look.

“Tommy,” Phil repeats, kind but firm. “This is your first time living out of Newfoundland. It’s totally understandable that you’d be nervous. But you’re gonna have your brother with you, and he’s traveled plenty.” Phil pauses, then raises a finger. “And you’ll have Tubbo! What’s Tommy without Tubbo, right?”

Tommy bites his lip, silently brushing away Phil’s hand. The mourning doves sing lightly outside the window.

“I just… I’ll miss you, Phil. And you, Techno,” he murmurs.

Phil releases the breath he was holding. “You know me and Tech will visit, right? Whenever you need us, we’ll be there. We’re family. That’s what family does.”

“Well, technically Wilbur is your only son-”

“Shh, we’re family.”

The house goes silent once again, like falling under the blankets after a fight. Like the night after the end. Like flight, severed and free.

Something passes between the five, an acknowledgement of passing, an acceptance of parting.

Phil smiles, bittersweet.

“It’s time for you three to write your story,” he says. “And my, what a story it will be.”

Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo hike their bags over their shoulders. The door seems to open itself, inviting them to a brand new life.

It starts like this:


	2. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur discovers his identity as a salmon-fucker.

It starts like this:

Wilbur meets the most beautiful fish he’s ever seen.

Well, sort of.

It had been a long journey from Newfoundland to this new kingdom - Dream SMP. He'd heard good things about the place - peaceful, while still solid and character building. But… to get here, he’d walked cross-continent from the north to the south with two rowdy children and no one to keep them in line. And as it stands, he has no home, no job, and the only person he knows here is his brother and his brother’s best friend. It’s supposed to be a brand new world with brand new prospects - exciting and different. Something set for success. 

Well, he’s not seeing much of that success. So far it’s a lot like homing with Schlatt back in the day, except no home and no Schlatt.

...Wilbur wishes Schlatt would come. Maybe then he could get his life straight.

Well, if nothing else, at least he has his guitar.

So it is that Wilbur finds himself on the riverbank, gently strumming out a tuneless melody on his instrument. It’s nice, just sitting here alone, leaving his worries for another day. Just him and the music.

And whatever is making that noise downstream.

Wilbur, not one to assume the worst, keeps playing. Whoever it is can come out when they’re ready. Slowly, his menial strumming begins to form into the makings of a song. Wilbur hums along to the tune, words and verses spinning and weaving together with the melody of the riverbank.

“I’m sorry, but Boris, I’m leaving. I’m not good for anyone here...”

An old song. He doesn’t even remember who Boris is anymore.

“We reach the end of a decade-”

“I like your song.”

Wilbur nearly jumps out of his skin. The song ends in an abrupt clashing of mismatched chords.

“I’m sorry I startled you. What’s your name?”

From the river, a head pokes out. Wilbur blinks, slightly confused as to what this woman was doing in the rather fast-flowing water. 

She’s still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“Um… Wilbur. Wilbur Soot,” he says after some hesitation.

She grins, hazel eyes sparkling. There’s a splash and a ripple and then she’s resting her arms on the bank, sodden hair clinging to freckled skin.

“Nice to meet you!” she says with a light Dutch accent, flashing Wilbur an even wider smile. “I’m Sally.”

Wilbur gulps, gently easing his guitar off his shoulder. “Uh… nice to meet you too. If you… uh, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you doing in the river?”

Wilbur flinches as a spray of cold water drips into his eyes. “Hey! What-”

He blinks the water away, opening his eyes.

She has a fucking tail.

Slowly, Wilbur relaxes again. Sally’s smirking slightly, her tail gently waving back and forth. It’s a pretty thing - beige and red scales slowly mixing in with a white and green gradient. Wilbur is reminded vaguely of a salmon. 

He wants to compliment her, but his mouth can’t quite seem to form the right words.

“...You’re a mermaid?”

He immediately cringes at his own bluntness. Fuck. But Sally only giggles, the water around her rippling with the movement.

“Not exactly.”

“Wh-”

Sally stretches, then climbs out of the water. Through the cascade of liquid Wilbur can see her form change, bending and shifting until it was something else entirely.

One moment, Wilbur’s looking down at her. The next, he’s looking up.

A russet tail flicks across the grass, dancing over the blades. Ginger hair plays up into twin black-tipped ears. A white sundress complements the slight copper tone to her skin.

Wilbur can already feel the blood rising to his cheeks, but he does his best to ignore it.

_Be respectful be respectful be respectful be respectful be respectful-_

“You’re a fucking shapeshifter?!”

_Shit._

Sally throws her head back and laughs. She sounds like an injured dolphin, though Wilbur can’t help but think that it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

“Yeah!” she giggles. “I am! Gods, you’re a funny one, aren’t you?”

Wilbur stands with some difficulty. He’s taller than Sally by a good six inches, but judging from what he’d seen that could change any minute.

“Um-”

“I like you, Wilbur Soot,” Sally interrupts. Wilbur's mouth snaps shut. “And your music. Come back tomorrow, yeah?”

Sally’s gone before Wilbur’s even had a chance to process what she said.

\----

Wilbur does come back the next day. And the next, and the next. Sally's always waiting for him, arms resting on the riverbank like the day they'd met. 

Tommy asks him where he goes each afternoon. Wilbur never tells him.

Sally shows him the world. She's the fish in the rivers and the birds in the trees and the foxes in the brush. Weeks tick into months and with every hour their friendship grows deeper and deeper but that's not what Wilbur _wants-_

Six months later, Wilbur arrives at the riverbank before Sally does for the very first time.

The shape shifter is pleased, if not slightly confused. Wilbur tells her that he just wanted to surprise her.

Their time together is spent much like any other day. Wilbur tells Sally of Tommy's antics, of the new job he'd managed to snag waiting tables, of the life he'd built for himself, of the people he missed and the home he’d left behind. Sally is as pleasant as she always is - laughing at his jokes, scoffing at whatever dumb shit Tommy had gotten up to, telling Wilbur of her folks when he'd mentioned his own.

It's not a special day. Not yet.

They've lapsed into a comfortable silence. Wilbur's skin feels hot. It's a beautiful day but it's so _goddamn bright-_

"Sally?"

The shape shifter's eyes flick up lazily to meet Wilbur's. She's not doing anything unusual - just sitting in the river like she always does. And yet… Wilbur still can't help but feel like she knows what's happening.

"Yes, Wil?"

Foxes keen from the woods. Wilbur is reminded of his favorite form of Sally's.

"I think I love you."

Sally smiles gently. Wilbur feels his heart hammering against his chest.

"I love you too."

\----

Wilbur spends the next year happier than he's ever been. Sally meets Tubbo and Tommy and Tommy taunts her for liking Wilbur but she only throws her head back and laughs and _gods-_

He thinks she's probably the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Well, second best. 

Because one day they meet up and she's standing on the riverbank, something swindled in her arms. Wilbur wants to ask what it is, but he's distracted by the way her reflection dances in the water.

Then the thing in her arms begins to cry.

Wilbur learns about a new kind of love that day.

They name her Floris. He couldn't be happier.

\----

Floris is only nine years old when her mother disappears. She cries for Sally, begging to know where her mother went. Wilbur cries as well. He doesn't know. She’s dead, maybe. Hybrid poachers. Does it matter? Sally is gone either way.

Floris lets out a sob. Wilbur pushes down pictures of the riverbank.

“Someday, my little champion,” he tells her through his tears, burying the fox in his arms. “You’re gonna inherit this world...”

\----

One day, months later, Floris asks about her mother. Wilbur sings her a song.

That night, they cry together once more. His daughter falls asleep next to him, fur messy with tears and yet ever so beautiful. Wilbur brushes a hand across her cheek and knows that everything has led to this. 

He's right where he's supposed to be.

**~Three years later~**

Wilbur leans back, settling himself against the trunk of his favorite tree in his favorite park. The willow was in full bloom - long branches of green blossoms swaying in the wind of the best weather Wilbur could ask for. His son is rolling in the grass down the hill, snapping his muzzle at any bugs he managed to stir up. Wilbur smiles unconsciously. What a gift Fundy was - his little champion. His baby boy. The center of his life. All his time and all his love-

“You’re real fond of that kid, eh?”

Wilbur turns, facing the man laying the grass beside him. Schlatt had opted for something more casual today, which really only meant taking off his blazer and tie. Still, it was nice to see him unwind for once.

“How could I not be? He’s my son,” Wilbur replies earnestly.

Schlatt sits up, smirking. “Think you’d still like him if he forced you out of bed at 5 AM just to go fishing?”

Wilbur raises an eyebrow. “That seems oddly specific, Schlatt.”

Schlatt huffs good-naturedly, looking down the hill at the fox still romping in the flowers.

“Eh, you’ve done similar things to me back in the day,” he says, shrugging. “Guess it just runs in the family.”

Wilbur shoves Schlatt in the shoulder. “Did not! You always kept me up at night talking about your fuckin’ crypto exit scam that didn’t even work.”

Schlatt scoffs in mock offence. “Schlattcoin was an innovation. It worked just fine.”

Wilbur chuckles. “Sure it did. On Connor, once.”

Schlatt turns, “accidentally” knocking Wilbur with one of his horns.

“Hey, watch it!”

“That's what you get for insulting my incredibly successful cryptocurrency.”

A scuffle breaks out. Soon enough, he and Schlatt are rolling around in the grass alongside Fundy. When they eventually break apart, Schlatt’s crisply pressed shirt is covered in wrinkles and grass stains and Wilbur has sticks tangled in his hair.

Fundy runs over to him, worry bright in his eyes. “Did you win?” he asks genuinely.

After a pause, Wilbur laughs, scratching his son behind the ear. “Yeah, I sure did.”

“Did not!” Schlatt argues.

“Did to.”

_“Did not.”_

Wilbur waves his hand as if brushing away the argument. “Fine. If that’s what you wanna tell yourself.”

Schlatt gives him a look, but keeps his mouth shut at the sight of the twelve year old child standing right beside him.

The two return to the willow, letting Fundy get back to his game. The cool breeze is soothing, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat across Wilbur’s forehead.

“...He’s a good kid, Wil.”

Wilbur turns to Schlatt in surprise. Honestly was a rather rare emotion when it came to Schlatt, but from what Wilbur could tell he was 100% genuine.

“Why’s that?” he asks, more out of curiosity than anything.

Schlatt is silent. Wilbur lets him think.

“Cause he’s yours. And if he turns out even half as good as you are, he’ll do just fine.”

Wilbur feels something tighten in his heart. “I… wow. Thank you. I… I’m sure you could do better-”

Schlatt lets out a harsh laugh. “You think I could do better? Really?”

Wilbur frowns. “I mean-”

Schlatt cuts him off. “I don’t wanna hear it, Wil. I’ve b- I’d be a shit dad, and you know it. I’ve fucked up with too many people. I can’t keep myself under wraps. I’m just waitin’ for the day I go too far to turn back.”

“Schlatt, don’t say that about yourself!” Wilbur scolds, putting a hand over Schlatt’s. “Everyone fucks up, it's natural. It’s never the end of the world.”

Schlatt huffs bitterly. “People always say that until it is.”

“Schlatt…”

The ram pulls his hand away from Wilbur’s. “Forget it.”

“You’re here, though.”

Schlatt’s mouth parts. “...What?”

Wilbur pulls Schlatt’s hand back into his own. “You’re here, in the Dream SMP, with me. I wanted you to come and you came.”

Schlatt lets out a heavy breath. The willow blossoms glow in the morning sun.

“…Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.”

\----

“Table 5, Wil. Then break.”

Wilbur gives Eret a nod, lifting a platter of steamed chicken onto his arm. The light of the restaurant glows dimly, brightening into a pleasant orange as he rounds the corner. Listless chatter fills his ears - a calming waterfall of white noise. A chair scrapes against the floor. A man and two kids file out the door. Knives and forks clatter against ceramic. Another day, another hour.

His feet guide him effortlessly to table 5. An older gentleman sat by himself. Not the lonely type, more the “this is my third space” type. At home away from home. Wilbur can relate.

“Hello, sir,” Wilbur greets effortlessly. “Here is your meal. I’ll be back ‘round in a tick to make sure everything’s to your liking. When you’re done, you may leave your dishes at the table and pay up front.”

As he speaks he slides the platter smoothly off his arm, arranging silverware and a tall glass of water into formation with practiced ease.

“Thank you,” the man says in a kind, raspy voice. Wilbur notices little antlers poking out of his hair as he moves.

“You’re a hybrid,” Wilbur says, surprising himself. “Or- sorry, that was a bit rude,” he immediately backtracks.

_Shit._

The man laughs, to his relief. His brown eyes twinkle with amusement.

“That I am, son. Got deer blood on my pa’s side.” He rumbles, taking a short sip from his water.

Wilbur releases the breath he was holding. “Really? My dad is a hybrid too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

Wilbur pauses, but complies - it was technically his break, after all. The hard wood chair squeals as he settles into it. Awkwardly, he watches the man cut a slice of chicken, absently bringing it to his mouth.

“I’m Pete. What about you?”

The question startles him out of his unfocused stupor. His mouth works aimlessly for a second, before eventually forming something cohesive.

“Um, William. Most people call me Wilbur, though.”

Pete smiles. “Good name,” he says. “Strong name. Kind name.”

Wilbur feels blood rush to his cheeks, thankful that the strong lighting hid most skin tones. “I… Thank you,” he laughs.

Pete shakes the ice in his glass. “I hope you don’t think me rude, Wilbur,” he starts. “But you don’t look like a hybrid.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah yeah, I know. My dad is avian, but I didn’t really get the traits. Think my ratio is like… 5 to 95 or so.”

Pete chuckles. “Eh, I’m not much better. My pa was 50 to 50, but I’m only 20 to 80 or so. I only got the antlers from him.”

Wilbur smiles, tracing a figure in the line of the table. “My dad kinda fucked me over, actually. Only bird stuff I got from him was not being able to taste.”

Pete’s fork clinks against his plate. “Then why do you work in a restaurant?” he laughs.

“Don’t need to taste to serve,” Wilbur shrugs.

“True enough, I suppose,” Pete agrees. “My brother wouldn’t have let me anywhere near a restaurant if I couldn’t taste.”

Wilbur’s interest piques. He stops drawing lines in the table. “You have siblings?”

“Yep. Brother an’ two sisters. They live up by the Championships.”

Wilbur nods, putting a finger to his chin. “Interesting. I have an unofficial brother. Well, two in my opinion, but he refuses to acknowledge it.” Unconsciously, Wilbur feels a smile rise in his lips. “He’s not much for touchy-feely stuff. He just likes committing war crimes with my dad.”

Pete takes another bite of chicken, thinking. “I getchu,” he says around his mouthful. “What’s his name?”

Wilbur wilts a bit. “Ehh… I don’t know if I should say. People tend to look at me a bit differently if I associate with him.”

Pete hums. “Well, I pinky promise I won’t judge. We aren’t in control of family, are we?”

Wilbur listens to the bustle of the restaurant. He checks the clock on the wall - three minutes of break left.

“...Technoblade.”

Pete chokes on a piece of chicken. Wilbur sighs.

“You know Technoblade??” he manages to cough out. “Like, Blood God Technoblade? Antarctic Empire Technoblade? _World conqueror_ Technoblade???”

Wilbur half-chuckles. “Yeah. I’ll never forget that trial. Guess the planet won't either.”

Pete’s brow dips, deep in thought. Wilbur lets him take his time.

“Wait… your dad… if they’re partners…”

“Halfway there.”

“Then… your dad is the Angel of Death.”

“Pretentious name, but I’ll take it.”

Pete forces himself to relax. “Wow. Your dad is the Angel of Death. That’s… that’s amazing. That’s amazing! I didn’t even know he had a kid!”

Wilbur grimaces. “Yeah… you wouldn't. Wasn’t much of a stay-at-home dad."

Pete lets out a large breath, smiling at the ceiling. “Wow. I’m glad the Sky Gods brought us together this fine day.” He looks back down to meet Wilbur’s gaze. “I’m so happy to have met you, Wilbur. You’re gonna do something great, I just know it.”

Wilbur smiles. Little memories wander through his vision like hares through the snow.

“Thank you.”

\----

Wilbur flops into bed with a sigh. The blankets seem to wrap around him before he's even settled, pulling him deeper into the lull of sleep. He lets them happily. He was ready for a nice, long rest after a full day at work.

“Wilbur! That fuckin’ bastard you call a brother wants me to go out in the middle of the night to collect music disks with him.”

Wilbur groans, burying his face in his pillow. “Just tell him to fuck off,” he mumbles through the fabric.

“You think I haven’t tried that? Kid’s the most clingy motherfucker I’ve ever met.”

Wilbur smiles, though it’s hidden by the pillow. “Then tell him to go with Tubbo instead.”

“Tubbo? The kid you picked up off the road?”

“That’s the one.”

“...Tommy said he’s already coming. They’re friends, are they?”

“The best.”

“...I see.”

Wilbur shuffles, facing Schlatt. “Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?”

Schlatt scowls in the moonlight. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Aw, did the big bad Schlatt get attached?” Wilbur simpers. Schlatt promptly punches him in the shoulder.

“Shut your fuckin’ trap, bitch.”

The silence turns somber. Wilbur’s smile wilts. The darkness seems to press in on him.

“Why don’t you want to go, really?” he asks softly. “You know how much Tommy looks up to you.”

Schlatt looks down at his feet, biting his lip.

“...Those two are a lot like us, y’know,” he murmurs.”Best friends. Young and carefree. Living by the day. We were just the same.”

Wilbur tilts his head, rubbing his comforter between his fingers. “How’s that a bad thing?”

Schlatt laughs humorlessly. “Cause it scares me more than you can imagine.” 

Immediately, Wilbur pulls off his covers, stands, and places his hands on Schlatt’s shoulders.

“Schlatt,” he says sternly. “You’ve gotta trust me - if Tommy and Tubbo turn out anything like us, they’re gonna be just fine. You don’t have to keep worrying like this.”

Schlatt is silent, unable to meet Wilbur’s gaze. Wilbur sighs, pushing aside his mop of hair.

“Schlatt,” he says, gently this time. “Where’s this all coming from? You’ve been acting off for days. Is something wrong?”

Schlatt seems to deflate. “I… I dunno, Wil. You promise not to tell anyone?”

Wilbur looks Schlatt straight in the eye. “I promise.”

Fidgeting nervously, Schlatt begins to speak. “It’s… It’s the king of this place. That Dream guy. I think he’s followin’ me. An’ Wil - lemme tell ya, that guy ain’t good news. I see him and I know I done somethin’ wrong. I’ve been on edge for days. Guess… guess it’s makin’ me think. ‘Bout me, and what I’ve done.”

Wilbur bites his lip, thinking hard. Dream wasn’t much of a king, he was really more of a… watcher. Dipping in now and then to make sure things went the way he wanted them to. George and Sapnap took care of the actual kingdom management more than Dream ever did.

With this in mind, Wilbur gives Schlatt a comforting pat. “I don’t think you should worry too much about it, big guy,” he consoles. “I’m sure Dream’s just curious about the new guy. You’ve only been here a few days, after all. Besides, Tommy is good friends with him. I’m sure you can get him to ask Dream what's up if you’re really concerned.”

Schlatt relaxes the tiniest amount. Success.

“Thanks Wil. You really know how to calm a guy down.”

Wilbur smiles. “Anytime, man.”

They stand in comforting silence for a while, just watching the moon cross the sky outside the window.

“...So, you gonna go disk hunting with Tommy or not?”

Schlatt tightens his lips. “I dunno. Think I need some time. You still need me to help cook?”

“Eret will be happy to take your place,” Wilbur interrupts. “They’re always looking for an excuse to see Fundy.”

Schlatt breathes out the tiniest amount.

“Then… ok. Thanks, Wil. I’ll see you soon.”

\----

“No no no. Wilbur, you’re doing it all wrong. You can’t just shove a slab of meat in the furnace and expect it to taste good.”

Wilbur scoffs. “Come on, Eret. You haven’t even tried my cooking.”

Eret scoffs right back at him. “I think “cooking” is a very loose term. Besides, I don’t need to taste it to know it’ll be terrible.”

Wilbur throws his hands in the air. “There’s not a scrap of truth in that sentence! Fundy, back me up.”

Fundy shuffles awkwardly from beside the dining table. “I think Wilbur’s food is alright…”

Eret sighs and bends down, cupping a hand around Fundy’s cheek. “That’s because you’ve never tasted anything better,” he says solemnly.

Wilbur scowls, though he keeps his more choice words to himself. “Well, I think my cooking is incredible,” he argues.

Eret looks at him pityingly. “Wilbur, I really hate to say this, but you can’t taste.” 

Their argument ends after that.

An hour later, Wilbur settles into his chair with a long sigh. Glancing out the window, he sees his son happily playing in the river, having some kind of splashing contest with Eret. 

Wilbur leans back, closing his eyes. Honestly, he couldn’t be more grateful to Eret. The man had first met Fundy through Tubbo a while back. Though Fundy had found him scary at first, they’d managed to form a bond that even Wilbur was somewhat jealous of. 

...Gods, they were about as wholesome as it got.

Wilbur lets himself drift off to sleep, knowing his son is in safe hands.

\----

“DAD WAKE UP LOOK!”

Wilbur nearly shits himself at the rather rude awakening. Eyes snapping open, Wilbur is met with a fuzzy blur of russet. It’s Fundy, he realizes, leaning closer to him than was necessary. The fox bursts into a smile at the sight of his father’s sleep-riddled eyes.

“Look at what Eret helped me catch by the river!”

Fundy shoves a different color into Wilbur’s face. Something red-brown. It takes him a rather confusing moment to realize the thing is moving. 

“Fundy… what is that?”

Unshaken, Fundy shoves the thing closer. “It’s a beetle dad! But look at its head!”

After a small hesitation, Wilbur pushes Fundy’s hands away, forcibly allowing his eyes to actually focus on what the thing was. Eret smiles, amused, from a few feet away.

Fundy wasn’t mistaken - it is some kind of beetle cupped in his hands. It’s a pretty thing, really. Deep mahogany shields protect a pair of intricate, sepia-toned wings, the exoskeleton playing into a darker, more gray-brown gradient towards the front. And there, on the beetle’s head - two sleek horns of curving chitin.

Wilbur looks at his son’s eyes. They’re sparkling with wonder - galaxies of thoughts swirling in his irises.

“I named it Jay. After Schlatt, y’know? Cause they kinda look like each other,” Fundy murmurs, slightly self-conscious.

Wilbur melts.

“Oh, my champion,” he says, pulling Fundy close. “It’s beautiful. You’ll have to show Schlatt when he gets back.”

Fundy wiggles out of the hug, the beetle still gripped in one of his paws.

Eret intercedes. “Hey… where is Schlatt, anyways?”

Wilbur chuckles lightly. “He went out. Probably been kidnapped by the mafia by now.”

Eret huffs, amused.

“I’m sure he’s having the time of his life.”

The door slams open with a loud crack. For the second time that day, Wilbur nearly shits himself.

“WILBUR!” Tommy screams, a bright-eyed Tubbo and bedraggled Schlatt just behind him. “WE GOT THE GOODS!”

Schlatt groans. “He means the disks, Wil, not drugs. The little bastards found me as they were comin’ here, I checked ‘em.”

Wilbur laughs through his pounding heart. “Thanks, big guy.”

Eret chuckles, then gives the four a wave. “I’m gonna take this as my cue to leave. Don’t forget your steak, Wil! And a lovely catch, Fundy.”

Fundy beams.

“That reminds me,” Wilbur says as soon as Eret’s left. “My son has something to show you, Schlatt. Why don’t you two go ‘round back while I talk to Tommy and Tubbo?”

Schlatt rolls his eyes, though his fondness for Fundy shines through. In seconds, the duo is following in Eret’s footsteps, leaving Wilbur alone with Tommy and Tubbo.

Finally having a moment of peace, Wilbur takes a moment to look the two over. They’re dressed in ragged chainmail, bits of gunpowder caught in the links. Held between them are two disks - one green and one purple and white.

Wilbur gives the two a grin. “Mission success, I assume?”

Tommy nods breathlessly, a big smile plastered on his face. “Two disks, Wil! One for me and one for Tubbo!”

Wilbur feels his chest warm. “Which one is which?” he asks.

Tubbo butts in. “Mellohi is Tommy’s and Cat is mine! We almost died to a creeper!”

Wilbur can’t help but laugh. Tommy and Tubbo, the inseparable duo. They never do change.

“Gods, sometimes I wonder what the hell you boys get up to.”

~~~

Honey-dawn rivers of sunlight flood out over the horizon, sinking fire around the moonshine and star-streaks. Seasons settle into the wood. The future holds the moment close - falling under the blankets after a fight. The night after the end. Flight, severed and free. 

_“We did it, Tubbo! We did it!”_

Two promises pass hand over hand into a jukebox. The machine crackles and skips before coughing out the first binding ties.

“Cat,” says the Summer.

It’s not a special promise. Common, made again and again to a hundred different seasons.

Not once has it been broken.

_“Yeah... yeah, we did it!”_

The pages turn as the walls begin to crumble. The next promise plays. 

“Mellohi,” says the Autumn.

It is not a cheerful promise. It was made down under the twilight, where bodies lay chained at the seafloor. But it is strong.

Not once will it be broken.

The Autumn’s fireworks ignite. Galaxies swirl amidst the treetops.

“I love you, Tubbo.”

The Summer ripples, a breeze brushing a smile across its canopy. 

“I love you too.”

“You and me?”

Soft and sturdy redwood hands lay to rest. The honey-dawn caramelizes the moment. 

One day, there will be forests that look like it.

“You and me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little iffy on the pacing of this one, but I've been editing it for ages and finally said fuck it lmaoooo


	3. The Architect of Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A start as gray as the catalyst.

“Come on, Tommy! Just show me the disks you got! You two can’t have been out the whole night and gotten none.”

Tommy crosses his arms. “No way. They’re mine, get your sticky fuckin’ fingers away.”

Dream huffs, leaning back against the smooth stone of Tommy’s house. “Wow. Refusing a direct order from your king? I could kill you for that, bitchboy.”

Tommy hops off the prime path, giving Dream a little shove as he walks into his home. “Nah. You’d pussy out.”

“I wouldn’t be so confident, Toms. I have a hundred titles-”

Tommy waves a hand, the other rummaging through one of his incredibly organized chests. “Yeah yeah. I’ve heard it a million times. Hunter, Dragonslayer, “The Masked King.” Honestly, I think you need to be taken a step down. How do you feel about... Big D?”

Dream sputters. “W-what?”

Tommy flashes Dream a grin, pulling a bundle of meat preserves from his chest. “I think it fits you,” he quips, taking a bite.

“...Right.”

“What? Am I wrong?” he asks through a mouthful.

“...Anyways!” Dream claps. “I still wanna see those disks. Care to point me towards them?”

Tommy swallows, then scowls. “I hid them so nosy fuckers like you wouldn’t find them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Wilbur’s waiting.”

He makes to leave, having acquired the meal he’d come for. Dream, being a Massive Bitch, impedes him. He’s slid his mask up ever so slightly, just enough so that Tommy could see his grin. Creepy fuck.

“If you’ve hid them, then I’ll just have to find them!”

Tommy scoffs. “Sure thing, all-mighty hunter. I’m sure you’ll have a blast.”

“I’m not kidding, Toms!” Dream chirps. “Imagine the power I’d have over you. You’d finally stop trashing my SMP and fighting my citizens. You’d actually listen to me.”

Tommy freezes, then begins to cackle. “Oh, fuck! That’s a good one, Dreamy,” he wheezes. “Like I’d ever listen to you once!”

Tommy shoves Dream aside, walking back out into the bright afternoon. “You should tell that one to Gogy,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll have a right laugh.”

“Maybe he will, but in the end it’ll be me who has the last laugh.”

Tommy swears he can hear crickets chirp.

“...That sounded a lot cooler in my head, in my defense,” Dream admits. 

Tommy barks out a laugh, continuing on his way. 

“Sure thing, Big D.”

\----

Finally having escaped Dream’s evil clutches, Tommy makes his way towards the park where Wilbur said he’d be hanging. It was an alright place - two shallow lakes and some nice sturdy trees, bordered on one side by the ocean docks. The park was big enough and the residentials spaced far enough away that you could nearly believe you were out in the country. Wilbur, evidently, was quite fond of it. So was Tubbo. And Fundy. 

He resists bothering them for about an hour before he finally snaps.

“Fundy, you idiot child. That is not how you fish.” 

Tommy scowls at the fox. The fox scowls back. “I’m not fishing,” Fundy claims. The salmon in the river stir ever so slightly.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, looking pointedly at where Fundy has his paws dipped into the water. “It sure looks like you are.” 

Fundy bites his lip, briefly glancing behind him at the hillock where Wilbur was playing with Tubbo. Tentatively, he opens his mouth.

“...I’m trying to be friends with them.”

Tommy barks out a laugh. The salmon in the river dart away. “Tommy!” Fundy cries. “You scared them!”

Tommy wipes a fake tear from his eye. “Fundy, if you’re trying to be friends with salmon, then I think you’ve got bigger problems.”

Fundy scrunches up his face, shoving Tommy playfully. “Rude.” The blond only ruffles his fur, a placating smile on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, have fun with your fish friends. I’m gonna go find Tubbo.”

Fundy relaxes a little. “Alright. Tell him I say hi, yeah?”

“Sure.”

They part. Fundy goes back to his “fishing,” while Tommy turns and begins trekking up the hill. The grass is long and sharp and cuts at his legs, but the weather’s much too fine to be upset about it. 

“Tommy!”

Tommy looks up. Tubbo is stumbling down the hill, eyes bright and hands waving. Wilbur watches with an amused smile.

Tubbo collides with him, knocking the breath out of his lungs and causing them to tumble to the grass.

“Tubbo!” Tommy shouts in mock offense. “You fuckin’ dumbass! Look what you did!” He gestures towards the green stains smeared across his shirt. Tubbo pushes himself to his feet, a breathless smile on his face. He doesn’t say a word in response, only holding out a hand. 

Tommy rolls his eyes, but takes it.

“Fundy says hi, by the way.”

Without another word, the duo wave goodbye to Wilbur and begin to wander. They take one of the backroads to the central square, admiring some of the older architecture in the kingdom. Stuff from its very conception. It's all a bit dilapidated, what with the SMP not having great conservation laws, but the grand towers still make for quite a marvel. Tubbo finds a stray cat inside one of them - a black one with big bright eyes. It follows them until they make it to the market.

Dream SMP’s central square is a place of constant activity. Entrepreneurs rise and fall within a matter of days. Products go out of stock just as fast as they come in. Stallsmen touting snake oils call and sing into the crowd - their stuff is bullshit, of course, but it adds a sense of livelihood to the Dream SMP that you just don’t see in the trade titans of the world. Tommy loves it. It feels like it was made for him.

But for now, he was content to just walk with his friend.

“Ey Tubbo, anything you wanna buy?” Tommy asks, glancing over the stalls crowded with people and goods.

Tubbo puts a finger to his chin. “Hm… do you like butterscotch?”

Tommy huffs. “I’m buying this for you, not for me.”

“But do you?”

“...”

Tubbo grins at him with half-lidded eyes. “C’mon, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Candy is candy.” Tommy grumbles something under his breath. Tubbo hits him lightly. “Didn’t quite hear that, Big T.”

“Fine! I do!” Tommy admits, crossing his arms. “Happy?”

Tubbo smirks. “Yes.”

“Asshole,” Tommy mutters, but pulls a few emeralds from his pocket.

The two browse stalls until they find a seller to their liking - a young reindeer hybrid. His stall is a pleasant birch with green overhangs. As they approach, he gives them a cheery wave, ushering the duo closer. With the invitation Tubbo immediately dashes off, Tommy’s emeralds cupped in his hands. 

“Butterscotch, please!” the question is out of his mouth before he’s even made it to the stall.

Reindeer-man (or Callahan, as his name tag reads) smiles, taking the emeralds from Tubbo’s outstretched hand and dropping them into a pouch. He then reaches under the stall, hefting out a jar of small candies. Tubbo looks about ready to burst.

“Thank you!” he exclaims, grabbing and nearly dropping the jar. Callahan snickers, but offers Tubbo a farewell wave nonetheless.

Tubbo returns to Tommy’s side, a grin on his face and butterscotch in his hands. Wordlessly, he screws the lid open, offering one to Tommy. He takes it, plopping the candy nonchalantly into his mouth. The golden flavor seeps into his bloodstream, warming him to the core. Little memories flit through his mind like swallows between the redwoods.

He grabs another. Tubbo raises an eyebrow. Tommy does not acknowledge him. 

They start walking again. Tommy sucks on his piece of butterscotch. Bored bored bored. 

He begins to walk quicker.

Tubbo matches him step for step. A little faster now, dipping and weaving between the clusters of market-goers. He can’t hear Tubbo’s footsteps over the chatter, but every once and a while he spots a flash of green through the bustle.

Tommy grins and begins to run, shoving aside civilians and receiving not-so-nice words in return. He couldn’t give less of a shit, though. 

If it’s a race you’re talking, then he’s gonna win it.

For a brief second, Tommy spots the gate out of the market. Two big ravager hybrids stand on each side of it, spears gripped in their claws. Tommy scowls a bit. He doesn’t like anyone more muscular than him.

_Maybe I’ll take a piss on them as I go by._

“Hurry up, Tommy!”

He breaks out of his thoughts, gaze flitting up. Tubbo’s at least three meters ahead of him, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Oh, you fucker,” Tommy hisses under his breath. His feet pound harder against the bricks. Tubbo gives a mocking wave, before making a final sprint towards the gates. He needs to do something, and fast.

His eyes land on the two guards stationed before the gates. An idea sparks in his mind. Tubbo’s only a few meters from the gates, but just one more second…

“Ay! I’m gonna piss on you, hairy fucks!” Tommy shouts, showing his teeth. The guards snap towards him in unison, beady eyes wide with offense.

Their hooves move ever so slightly. It’s all he needs. 

Tubbo’s shoe catches, sending him tumbling to the brick. Tommy cackles, jumping over his body and claiming first place.

Tubbo pushes himself to his feet. “Tommy! That’s cheating,” he huffs, brushing dust off his clothes. “I’ll have you banished for that!”

Tommy smirks. “Do it. You won’t.”

Tubbo opens his mouth, poised to respond-

a loud, low rumble fills the air. Two large, suspiciously boar-shaped shadows block out the sun.

“...And that’s our cue to leave!” Tubbo squeaks. “Come on, Tommy!”

They run. Tommy nearly suffocates between the heaving and the laughing. The jar of butterscotch remains firmly under Tubbo’s arm.

The streets grow quieter as the two flee from the market. Their pace slows. The air is warm and the silence comfortable. Houses grow fewer and farther between. Silver birches flutter in the breeze. Brick to wood. Up the stairs, step over step, Tubbo just ahead of him. Green shirts, green grass. His heart settles, though there was never any real danger in the first place. The Dream SMP's one of the safest kingdoms out there - that's half they reason they'd worked so hard to snag an invitation. Safe and free. Somewhere to grow up, to grow in.

Tommy shakes the thoughts out of his head. No way in fuck was he gonna start thinking like Wilbur. Then again... it'd be funny to see Wilbur start crying after realizing he'd had any influence over anyone. He smiles to himself at the idea - in his mind's eye he sees Wilbur fighting back tears as he and Tubbo watch from beneath a soft, ashy wing. There is laughter. Techno, maybe. Tommy had always liked his laugh, though maybe that was a result of its rarity. He can picture the sound like a reflection - the four of them, his family, laughing from the back of a carriage as they were being ridden up to the Championships. Techno, recounting tale of the Monday Massacres. Phil, expounding details of the Antarctic Empire and its brief totality. Wilbur, teaching him guitar strings and singing tales of people left behind. In some ways, he misses it. In others, he knows that this is where he makes his own story.

Tommy is pulled abruptly from his thoughts when he walks straight into Tubbo, nearly toppling them both like dominoes. “Motherfucker!” he curses. “Why the hell did you stop?”

Tubbo’s mouth twists. “Um… who are you…?”

Tommy blinks, before he follows Tubbo’s line of sight. They come to rest at a spot just off the path. Honestly, he’s not even sure what he’s seeing - some eye-bleedingly colorful dude who’s asleep and a hybrid he couldn’t put a name to if he tried. They’re both leaning against a half-crumbled wall, oblivious to the world.

“What the hell.”

The hybrid jumps nearly a foot in the air at the realization it has company. It’s bordering on a good three feet taller than him - not pog. Tommy scowls.

“Oh, shoot. Um, I’m sorry,” it says in a surprisingly human voice. “I’m just waiting until Karl wakes up… uh, we’re not supposed to be here. Could you just… pretend you didn’t see us?”

Tubbo nudges him, gesturing with his eyes. His brow is furrowed in apprehension. And, really... If Tommy’s honest with himself, he doesn’t have time for people taller than him. So he shrugs, nods, and keeps walking, putting the whole encounter out of his mind.

Tubbo looks thoughtful for the rest of the walk home - distracted, even. Tommy doesn’t put much to it. Tubbo had always been the type to overthink.

They’re climbing up the stairs on the hill just in front of his yard when Tommy runs into Tubbo for the second time.

“Tubbo,” Tommy huffs. “What the hell has gotten into you.”

Tubbo grimaces from the top step, tentatively glancing into his eyes. “Tommy…”

Tommy scowls, crossing his arms. “What?”

“Were… all these holes here before…?”

Tommy gives a half-laugh-half-scoff, pushing Tubbo aside. “The fuck you on about-?”

_Oh._

The land in front of his house has been carved away, as if a beast from the clouds had reached down scooped away a hollow. Anything that had once resembled a pleasant front lawn had been ravaged. Tommy can’t spot a single blade of grass amidst the ruin. Speechless and pissed, he jumps down, gazing around the destruction. Who the fuck did this? Why? Who’d have a vendetta against him? Tommy had never done anything wrong in his life.

“Tommy, come look at this.”

He runs to Tubbo’s side. His friend is standing in the pit that used to be the entrance to his house, staring up with a slightly baffled look.

Tommy follows his gaze.

“Bitchboy Enterprise,” reads the sign over his door.

“...Well, at least we know who did it.”

_That motherfucker._

“Tubbo, stay here and guard. I have a certain green bastard to convene with.”

\----

“DREAM, OPEN THE FUCK UP! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” Tommy screams, slamming his fist repeatedly against the community house door. The wood rattles with the impact.

Abruptly, the door swings open. Tommy does not fall over. None other than Sapnap is standing in the doorframe, looking not-so-subtly-annoyed. 

“The hell do you want, runt?” he growls, raising an eyebrow.

Tommy expertly rebalances himself, not that he needed to. He then crosses his arms and gives Sapnap his best Threatening Glare. “Is Dream in there?”

“Yeah. George and him were just in the middle of a chess game.”

“Oh.”

Water sloshes against the boardwalk. Swallows chirp from the skies. Out of nowhere, Sapnap begins to laugh. 

“Oh, Fuck!” he cackles. “The look on your face, Tommy. It’s just a chess game! You know you’re welcome to bother me whenever.” 

Tommy laughs along awkwardly. “...Yeah. Man, I sure do love hanging with the local arsonist,” he jokes, pushing his embarrassment to the side. “Um, anyways! Would you grab ol’ Dreamy for me? I need to have a chat with him.”

Sapnap holds up an ok-sign. “Will do, Tommy. Be right back.” Sapnap vanishes back inside the community house. Tommy takes a deep breath, polishing his scratched pride. He waits. Not a minute later, a familiar smiling face pushes open the door.

“Hello,” Dream greets, as if he hadn’t just torn apart Tommy’s front yard. “Whatcha doing here?”

Tommy scowls. “You know exactly why I’m here.”

Dream cocks his head. “Do I?”

“Shut your smarmy fuckin’ ass,” he shouts, throwing his arms in the air. “My land is in shambles!”

“You know I’m no architect, Toms. Go to Sam if you need something fixed.”

Tommy shows his teeth. “Bitchass. You better explain yourself before I start stabbing shit.”

Dream laughs, waving a hand. “Okay, okay. I’m done joking around, I’ll tell you why. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t guess.”

“Well, I didn’t guess,” he huffs, glaring. Why the hell had he chosen to be friends with such a prick? The only reason they’d started talking was because he liked to give Dream shit for his poor kingdom management. “So if you could tell me, that’d be brilliant.”

“Fine.” Dream leans in close, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. “The disks, Tommy. I told you I’d find them and I did.”

Tommy imagines Dream grinning deviously beneath his mask, like a cartoon villain who’s just pulled out his ace card.

_Okay. This is fine. This is fine. Denial until he can prove himself._

Outwardly, Tommy snickers. “Sure, Dream. Didja use your super incredible amazing hunter-speedrunner skills to find ‘em? I bet you did. I bet George was so impressed, he proposed on the spot.”

Dream does that stupid thing where he stands completely still as he talks. “You want proof? I can give you proof. Come with me.”

_Don’t pussy out. You are a huge man. You are a huge man. You are a huge man._

Tommy smirks. “Alright, Dreamy. Lead the way.”

Dream turns, beckoning Tommy to follow. He does, making sure to keep a light smile settled on his face. They leave the community house behind, traveling down the boardwalk and catching more than a few stares. Apparently Dream was less of a public figure then he thought. Or maybe it was just Tommy’s chiseled physique. Whatever. He has slightly more important things to worry about.

The path grows steeper, signaling their arrival at Tommy’s griefed house. His smile drops into a scowl for just a second.

Tubbo glances up from his place on the front steps. 

“Tommy? What’s going on?” he asks, concern emanating from his voice.

Dream opens his mouth. Tommy gets there first. “Smiles over here claims he found where I hid the disks,” he says, crossing his arms. “But I’m making him prove it. Wanna come laugh at him with me?”

Tubbo’s eyes widen. “Wait… Dream found the disks? _Our_ disks?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

A glare.

Tubbo grimaces, hesitantly pushing himself to his feet. “...O-kay then. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.” 

Tommy and Dream wait as Tubbo navigates his way through the lawn-turned-crater. Two eventually becomes three. The silence is somehow deafening. 

“Follow,” is all Dream says.

They do.


	4. Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brbbrbrbrbbr i feel like a lot of these chapters are kind of barebones description-wise?? or maybe my computer just makes the sentences look short?? lmk I need validation

Tommy can feel his anxiety grow with each passing step. Why did Dream even want the disks? Stupid stupid. They were supposed to be safe. Could’ve bought an ender chest. Wilbur doesn’t have the money for it. He waits tables, for fucks sake. Should’ve known.

Something warm wraps around his wrist. Tubbo. “It’s gonna be okay, Tommy. Breathe.” Air dusty with pollen fills his lungs. In, out. “That’s it. We’ll get them back. I promise.”

_I promise._

“Thanks, Tubbo.” The words are foreign, like he's an amnesiac re-learning how to talk. It's disconcerting

“Well, we’re here.” Dream’s voice doesn’t fit in the moment. Wrong tone, wrong accent. Tommy scowls, then looks around. Big cliff face just in front of them with the prime path running over the top. Old creeper holes mixed with Dream’s manic digging. The mumble of the town square in the distance. And… and there, in the middle, a chest with the hinges torn near straight off. Tommy feels his lungs tie up in knots. The chest is empty.

“You wanted proof, and I delivered,” Dream quips cheerily, hands on his hips. “Happy?”

There's a noise churning inside him, drumming up a thousand too-big feelings he doesn't know the name to. So Tommy does what he always has: he lets it snap.

“You motherfucker," Tommy snarls. "I’m gonna shove my foot so far up your neon green asshole that you’ll be picking my fuckin’ toes out from between your teeth. Give back the disks.”

“...Yeah?!” Tubbo shouts. “Uh, you’re a bitch, Dream!”

Tommy smirks, his confidence growing. “That’s the fucking spirit, Big T. Two of us and one of you. How’s this gonna go down, _Clay?”_

Dream pauses, then begins to laugh. “Oh, you think I’ll be intimidated just because you used my real name?” he huffs out between wheezes. “Big deal! Go play with your brother, Tomathy. I have a kingdom to run.” Dream turns to leave, but Tommy, being an Enormous Man, impedes him.

“I think this is a little more important than playing chess with Gogy. Tell me where the fucking disks are.”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheers again, just to remind them he’s there.

Dream ponders the question exaggeratedly. Tommy’s boot thumps against the dirt. A hollow sound, like his heartbeat against his ribs. “Hmm…” Dream trails off. “Well, if I remember correctly, I put them in an undisclosed location.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Okay. Can you tell me where that is?” he asks, a small shot of confidence kicking his wit into gear.

Dream, for once, is baffled. “...Uh, no?” he half-laughs. “It’s an _undisclosed_ location. You do know what that means, right?”

Tommy nods. “Yeah, I’m not a fucking idiot. Now can you tell me where that is?”

Dream pauses, then drags a hand down his mask. “Okay, I see your game. Very funny. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go.”

“Woah woah woah!” Tommy shouts, waving his hands up in Dream’s face. “Not so fast, Big D. I haven’t gotten the disks back.”

Tommy can feel Dream’s scowl through his mask. “You aren’t going to.”

He grins. “Oh, I will. Cause I’m gonna offer you a deal you can’t refuse!”

Dream crosses his arms. “And what would that be?”

Tommy puts on his best Charisma Face. “Give back the disks and I will forgive you for being a dick.”

Dream stands perfectly still, perfectly quiet. He’s like a monolith.

“...Yeah!!” Tubbo cheers, just to fill the silence.

“You know what?”

_No way that fucking worked._

“If you don’t let me leave, I am going to burn Mellohi.”

Tubbo makes a choked noise. Tommy covers it up with a nervous laugh and another quip. “Yeah yeah! Big talk, Dreamy,” he drawls, keeping his voice even. “I get it, though. You were busy with your George. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you two. See ya never.”

Tommy makes a tactical retreat. Tubbo bounces just behind him, nerves laced with energy. As soon as they’re out of earshot, he pulls him under the leaves of a tree. A question hangs heavy in the air.

“What are we going to do?”

Tubbo stares at him with big wet doe eyes. Tommy bites his lip. What was he supposed to tell him? That they stood no chance? That Dream always wins? “I don’t fuckin’ know,” he grumbles, taking the safe approach. “Aren’t you the logic guy?

“I… uhg. Okay.” Tubbo takes a deep breath. “Tommy… can I be real for a second?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow at Tubbo’s unfamiliar tone. Nonetheless, he nods. In turn, Tubbo takes another breath, pawing and tearing at the grass under his hands.

“How… how much do these disks really mean to you?”

Tubbo braces. A little umbrella that blocks out the sun seems to settle above them.

“Tub?”

“Yeah?”

“More than you can imagine.”

Tubbo’s eyes harden. He pulls himself to his feet with dirt-stained hands, casting a shadow over Tommy’s face. “Then we need something to bargain with,” he proposes. “Not just valuables or whatever, something Dream really cares about. Something equivalent to the disks.”

Tommy scowls, absently tearing apart a blade of grass. “And what would that be?” he asks.

Tubbo’s lips press into a thin line. “I don’t know. You’re the one who’s friends with Dream.”

“Yeah? That doesn’t mean I know shit about him!” Tommy huffs. “He’s so fuckin’ cryptic all the time.”

Tubbo presses a hand to his forehead. “Okay. Okay, um… you’re friends with Sapnap too, right?”

Tommy makes a face of mild disgust. “We’ve fought alongside each other on occasion. I wouldn’t call him a friend.”

“Ahrg!” Tubbo grunts, startling him. “Would you just work with me, Tommy! Are you friends or not?”

Tommy backs down. “Fine, fine! _He_ would consider _me_ a… er, an acquaintance.” 

Tubbo claps, breathing out. “Good enough. We go to Sapnap and see if there’s anything he can do for us. It’s our best shot.”

Tommy lets the tension drain from his muscles. Man with a plan. Hand over hand. Tommy and Tubbo, undefeatable, indescribable. The impossible kids. What a life to live.

He grins. “Then let’s fuck that green bastard up.”

\----

Tommy’s back at the entrance of the community house, this time with Tubbo at his side. Energy spits and crackles in the air.

The brunette gives him a nod. 

_Knock knock._

Quiet brushes against the wood. A far cry from his earlier vehemence. 

“Who is it?”

Tommy and Tubbo simultaneously breathe out a sigh of relief at the sound of Sapnap’s voice. No Dream, no music. Just good ol’ Sapnap.

“Just me and Tubbo, Sap. Can we speak to you for a minute?” Tommy queries.

The door swings open. Sapnap is leaning against the frame, a loose smile on his lips. “Hey boys,” he greets. “What’s up?”

Tommy purses his lips. Tubbo fills in. “Are you alone?”

Sapnap’s smile flips, his eyebrows knotting. “Uh… Bad and some townsfolk were hanging with me, but I can get them to leave.”

Tommy clenches his fist. He’s not really sure why this is frustrating him so much, but for whatever reason just the sound of Sapnap’s voice was just… _aggravating._

“That’d be wonderful,” Tommy delivers flatly. Sapnap beams, somehow missing his tone entirely.

“Alright! HEY GUYS!” Sapnap shouts, leaning back into the community house.

“WHAT?” comes a voice from inside.

“FUCK OFF!”

Tommy, despite himself, smirks.

“LANGUAGE, SAPNAP!” a voice he recognizes as Bad screeches in indignance. The demon dips his head into view, fully presenting his scowl. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Sapnap scoffs, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Chill, Bad. It was just a request.”

Bad growls, pulling a hand down his face. “Fine! I’ll let you off, But you have to be more _civil,_ Sap. These are your people.”

“Yeah yeah.” Sapnap waves Bad off. “Get outta here.”

Bad huffs, but doesn’t argue further. Tommy watches his tail whip around the corner with a flick. A second later, footsteps and quiet murmurs of conversation move from one side of the house to the other. A sudden chink of light from inside and the repeated opening and closing of a door signal the final emptying of the community house. 

Sapnap turns back to face them, a smile on his scruffy face. “Well, come on in.”

Tommy had never really taken time to relax in the community house, despite that being its entire purpose. Mostly he just used it as a compass of sorts, considering it and its convenient beacon sat right in the middle of the SMP. It’s… an okay place, he decides as he looks around. Warm. Maybe not the best architecture, but this was before Sam’s time.

“Sit,” Sapnap says, pulling him from his thoughts. Tommy looks around, eventually pinning down a bench. Not quite the right wood, but that’s fine. He lets himself fall into it, Tubbo following his lead. Sapnap pulls over his own chair from who knows where. It makes a less than pleasant screech as it drags across the wood.

“Alright!” the ravenette enunciates, steepling his fingers like some kind of businessman. “What can I do for you?”

Tubbo looks at Tommy. Tommy looks at Tubbo.

“Um… well…” Tubbo begins.

“We have a problem with Dream,” Tommy finishes. 

Sapnap raises an eyebrow, twirling a random quill between his fingers. “Understandable,” he admits eventually, setting the quill on a side table. 

Tommy blinks. “What?”

Sapnap shrugs. “I said understandable. Dream’s my best friend and all, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a bit of a dick. Got a bit of a complex up in his head, y’know?”

Tubbo huffs. “Yep. We know.”

Sapnap nudges the quill from its spot on the side table, frowning. A bit of ink smears across the wood. “He’s a funny guy, Dream,” he continues. “Think something happened. Think it changed him.”

A slightly uncomfortable silence purveys the community house, interrupted only by the scuffing of the quill against the side table.

“Anyways!” Sapnap says, slightly too loud. “What’s your problem?”

Tommy grimaces. “Um... well, Tubbo and I have these things-”

“Music disks.”

“Yeah, those. They’re really important to us, and Dream stole them for some fucking reason. We need something to bargain with and, we uh… just wondered if you could help.” Tommy finishes. The words leave his mouth with a bitter aftertaste. His fingers amble aimlessly across the bench’s wood - nervous. Tommy forces them to still.

Sapnap leans back, humming. “Damn. I guess… well, I guess I do have one thing, but I’m not sure...” The quill bends between Sapnap’s fingers. “You guys are my friends, but ya gotta know that I’m loyal to Dream in the end. Us two have been through too much together. Brothers forged in fire, y’know?”

Tubbo frowns. “I literally read about you hunting Dream down for sport.”

Sapnap smirks, eyes far away. “Yeah, but that was just a game. Us three don’t have time for that anymore.”

Tubbo cocks his head. “Why not?” he asks. Tommy sighs to himself. He’d let Tubbo go off track for now, but only because his own words aren’t quite working right.

Sapnap leans back in his chair, smiling wistfully. “Well, pretty obvious why. It’s a big-ass city. Lotta things to run.”

“But there’s three of you?” Tubbo wonders.

Sapnap barks a laugh, twirling his quill. “Oh, Tubbster. There’s a lot more than three of us! George and I are just the big guys. And Dream… well, Dream works stuff from behind, haha. But that’s alright - we’re a team, the Dream Team, and we work together!” Sapnap finishes, as if signing of the end of a practiced spiel. Tommy narrows his eyes at the words, tensing. He doesn’t like the passion in Sapnap’s eyes, the loyalty. “Brothers forged in fire.” That’s a dedication. Brothers, brothers… 

An idea pops into Tommy’s mind like a flip being switched. Maybe it was a bit of an asshole move, but… well, whatever got the disks back. 

He reaches out, putting a hand on Sapnap’s shoulder. “I’m gonna stop you there, big guy. We’re here for a reason,” he interrupts before Sapnap can say another word. “It sounds to me like Dream’s leaving the whole country-running thing to just you guys. Big D’s too caught up in making everything perfect to make sure that things are even running at all. If he never consults you two, then why should you consult him?”

“Tommy, I dunno about that… ” Tubbo mutters under his breath. Tommy ignores him.

The quill snaps in Sapnap’s hand. He barely seems to notice. “I… I don’t like what Dream’s doing to me,” he confesses. Little bits of feather flit across the floor.

“...What do you mean?” Tubbo says carefully.

Sapnap sighs, folding in on himself. “I dunno. He keeps… enabling me. I was getting better with my shit, but now… now it’s like he wants me to be worse. Violent. ” Something hardens in Sapnap’s gaze. Before either of them can say a word, he speaks again. “One minute.”

Sapnap stands, mechanically walking up the stairs into the private quarters of the community house. Tubbo and Tommy wait in uncomfortable silence. A minute passes. Then two. Finally, heavy steps come slowly down the stairs.

Sapnap’s eyes are dark. Something is held tight to his chest.

“This is Spirit.”

Tommy swears he can hear lightning in the distance, despite it being a perfectly clear day.

“Or at least, what's left of Spirit.”

Tommy and Tubbo watch as Sapnap unfolds a gray-white pelt of short, stiff hair. 

“Spirit was Dream’s horse, back when we started this place. The guy loved the stupid thing more than the world. Couldn’t tell ya why, though.”

Pause. Hold your breath.

“I… I may have had a slight accident with it, and it may have died. I’m not good with pets. But I made this pelt out of its hair so Dream would forgive me.”

Thunderclouds roll into Sapnap’s eyes. He holds out the pelt. It shimmers slightly in the dusty sunlight shining through the windows.

“You _cannot_ tell him I gave you this. Just say you stole it, or some shit. Hopefully he won’t think too hard about it.” 

Sapnap places Spirit into Tommy’s hands. 

“Good luck.”

With nothing to do and nothing to say, Tommy nods and stands to leave, Tubbo just behind him. What else was there? They’d gotten what they needed. He wasn’t Sapnap’s counselor, or even really his friend. 

_Just leave._

“Oh, and Tommy?”

Tommy looks over his shoulder. Sapnap is staring down at the bits of quill scattered across the floor. There’s a look in his eyes he can’t quite describe. 

“Whatever happens, please remember...”

Unfathomable, maybe.

“...Dream isn’t a bad guy. Please. He’s not a bad guy.”

\----

_“Oh, on the lake? That’s interesting! We could make it like, above the water and have pathways going to it. Wouldn’t that be great?”_

_“Sap, the taller we make it, the cooler it’ll be. Trust me.”_

_“Heheha! George, look what you did! You broke our whole staircase!”_

_“Guys, the house is almost done.”_

_“It will be beautiful. It will be beautiful! Okay?”_

_..._

  
  


_“It will be beautiful.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaaaat tommy and dream parallels????


End file.
